


In From the Cold

by 3988Akasha



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3988Akasha/pseuds/3988Akasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mia is unable to get the pendant from Aaron, things go very badly for Miles and the rest of the group when Strausser catches up with them and takes them all back to Monroe.</p><p>“It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed is you.”</p><p>—	 F. Scott Fitzgerald</p>
            </blockquote>





	In From the Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [checkmatey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkmatey/gifts).



> This is un-beta'd...so if you see anything, let me know!

Miles stared at Aaron, eyes hard, unforgiving. "And you've had something like that on you, the whole time, and you haven't said anything?"

With great effort, Miles took half a step back and held out his hand. "Give it to me." The urge to simply snatch it out of his fingers, and knock him over the head was almost overwhelming. He couldn't believe his brother had had it…whatever it was. He also couldn't believe his brother had given it to quite possibly the most useless person left in the world. Something that important couldn't be allowed into the wrong hands.

"W-why, why?" Aaron asked.

Miles kept his eyes hard. "So I can smash it."

Aaron shook his head as though Miles was insane. "This could literally be the most important thing in the world."

"Which is exactly why we can't let Monroe get his hands on it. Give it to me."

"I'm not giving it to you."

Miles shook his head. This was hardly the most opportune time for him to grow a pair.

"Aaron, I swear to God I'm going to beat you unconscious and take it. Give it to me."

"Go ahead and try."

Miles blinked. Aaron's voice almost didn't shake. It almost sounded like an order, like a challenge.

Before Miles could respond, Charlie came up and defused the situation. Miles only half listened to her explanation, and sadly, Aaron was allowed to keep the pendant. He couldn’t push it, not without causing people to ask too many questions. The only comforting thought he had was that Aaron had managed to keep the pendant safe this long. They were close enough to Philly that maybe it would be okay, maybe. He did keep a closer eye on Aaron for the rest of the day and as they made camp that night. It didn't matter though; Miles never saw the pendant again. Wherever Aaron kept it, it was well hidden.

 

Miles watched Nora make a deal with the militia and reminded himself not to care that it was working. He wanted it to work because they needed to cross the bridge. It was no longer his job to enforce order with the militia. Caring about the ease with which Nora bought them passage across the militia-controlled bridge was no longer something he could afford to do. But, it was harder, the closer he came to Philly, to remember he wasn't General Matheson, not anymore.

When Nora motioned them forward, Miles started moving knowing Charlie and Aaron would follow him. It felt silly, all this sneaking around, dodging the men he once led, but it was necessary, it was a part of the mission. He'd contextualized it, put it into those terms; it made it easier to do what needed to be done, even if he didn't really care about getting Danny back. It was the mission.

Miles knew there was something wrong the second he walked past the gatehouse. It felt too simple, the bribe too small. He scanned the bridge, eyes restlessly searching for something to verify his growing sense of unease. The torches gave light, but offered more shadows. After a few seconds, he saw it, the tip of a rifle. There were men hidden behind the support beams. They were walking into a trap. Years of training kept his face blank as his mind raced with possible scenarios. He needed to get them off the bridge, and fast. Those weren’t muskets, those were automatic rifles.

"When I say so, we're going to turn around and run like hell," Miles said, working to keep his tone even, his eyes still scanning the area.

"What?" Aaron asked.

Miles barley repressed the urge to roll his eyes.

"We're walking into a trap."

Miles kept walking forward, his pace even. He felt Nora next to him, and knew she was scanning the area, just in case things got uglier. Behind him, he could feel the tension rolling off both Aaron and Charlie and hoped the two of them could keep it together long enough to pull this off. He would have liked to go a bit further, but he wasn't going to test fate, so he spun on his heel just as he whispered, "Now."

A hail of bullets followed them as they raced back across the bridge. Just as Miles ducked under the barricade, he felt eyes on him. He turned back and saw William Strausser looking back at him, his face an unreadable mask, but his eyes, his eyes promised to be the one to capture Miles Matheson. This was so much worse than when it had been Jeremy, or when it had been Neville…Strausser would drag him in without ceremony, without any sort of respect, and he might even beat Miles to death before they reached Independence Hall. He couldn't allow himself to be brought in by that man.

They kept running, always running, and Miles could hear Charlie's harsh pants behind him. Soon he'd need to teach her how to run without giving away their position, but not now. Now he needed to find a place for them to hide out, to wait for Strausser's men to give up the hunt. When he felt they were safe enough, he walked over to Charlie, her eyes wide, her breathing still harsh.

"Are you okay? Did you get hit?"

Charlie offered him a reassuring smile and shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I'm okay."

"What the hell was that?" Aaron asked.

"I have never seen guns like that," Charlie said.

"From the armory in Philly," Miles answered. Monroe never let the good guns too far away from the capital, not any more. Bullets were too scarce to waste on anything other than protecting the capitol.

"How did they find us?" Aaron asked.

"It's Strausser," Miles said, more to Nora than anyone else.

"Who's Strausser?" Charlie asked.

"Believe me, you don't want to know," Nora answered, "And you definitely don't want him to know you."

"So, how do we get across the bridge?" Aaron asked.

From the way he was breathing, Miles was amazed Aaron had enough oxygen to spare for questions.

"We don’t," Miles answered. There wasn’t a way across the bridge. Not with Strausser there. Not while Aaron still had the pendant. "Not with him here. We gotta get out of town."

"Try the bridge at Morgantown?" Nora asked.

"I don't see how we have another choice."

"You said that's a hundred miles. That's days out of the way," Charlie whispered.

"Charlie," Miles started, "I commanded that entire damn militia. And, there was only one guy that ever scared me. He's out there right now…we're in trouble."

They didn't have time to waste arguing about moving on to Morgantown. They needed to leave now, while Strausser's men were still out looking for them. It was the only chance they had. Miles was going to be brought in, he was sure of that, had been since they'd left Chicago, but it would be on his terms, and it wasn't going to be by Strausser. A flare went up before they had a chance to put any distance between themselves and the bridge and Miles cursed under his breath. They weren’t getting out of here alive.

"NORA, NORA CLAYTON!"

The call went out from closer to the bridge.

"Why are they saying my name?"

"NORA, CLAYTON, WE HAVE MIA."

"Mia? Who's Mia?" Charlie asked.

Miles closed his eyes. This wasn't going to end well. He knew he should have just knocked Aaron out and taken the pendant, then dealt with Charlie after, but he hadn't and now he was going to pay for it. He half-turned to face Nora.

"Nora, j-just hold on. W-wait. Nora, wait it's a trap," Miles said as Nora flew past him. It didn't matter because his words weren't going to stop her from dashing off after her sister. Cursing himself again, Miles took off after her. Back to the bridge, back to where Strausser was waiting to take them all to Monroe.

Nora was smart enough to stay under cover, to keep hidden. But, Miles' hope died when he saw that they had Mia strung up; Miles knew Nora would make a deal. Strausser had the better hostage.

"You should know that gravity is compressing your sister's organs," Strausser's voice rang out from where he had Mia strung up. "Her lungs can't fight it much longer. She's suffocating. It's a horrible way to die."

Miles hated the way Strausser taunted his victims. It was something he'd never been able to correct in him. Torture was one thing, and was even necessary in certain situations, but Strausser was vindictive and cruel without reason, without remorse, without conscious. He'd stopped being human long before he'd joined up with them.

"Fortunately, it won't take much more than an hour," Strausser continued. "I only want two things. The necklace. You know the one I mean. And Miles Matheson, for his crimes against the Republic."

Miles almost scoffed, but caught himself just in time. His crimes against the Republic? It was rich statement coming from Strausser.

"You bring me what I want in time, and she lives. It's simple, really."

It was simple, and it was a good deal. For all his snake-like qualities, Strausser was a man of his word. He'd let Mia go once Nora handed over the pendant and Miles. He couldn't let that happen. While he didn't want Mia to die, especially at the hands of a monster, he couldn't let Nora go through with it. No matter what it took.

Miles led them away from where they could see Mia. Hopefully, putting some distance between Nora and the visual of her sister strung up like a side of beef would help her focus, help her separate her emotions.

"I don't understand. They know we have the necklace, they know that Nora's with us."

While Miles agreed that there was a great deal that Aaron didn't understand, he knew exactly how Strausser knew about them.

"It's your boyfriend…Nate, or whatever his name is. He saw everything. Must have told Monroe."

"But, how'd they find Nora's sister?" Charlie asked.

"Strausser. Lives for this kind of thing." Miles wanted to punch the wall, but he couldn’t afford to have a broken hand, not now. This was all a setup, and because Strausser _knew_ him, he knew Miles would try to bribe the bridge, knew the easiest weakness to exploit would be Nora's attachment to her sister.

Miles walked over to Aaron. "Give me the necklace."

"What? No. You're not going to just give it up to them."

Miles didn't have the time or the inclination to explain himself to Aaron. He grabbed the front of his shirt, "Give me the necklace."

He titled his head a bit. "Give it to me, Aaron."

Aaron roughly knocked his arm away. Miles kept his eyes locked on Aaron's, but the man pulled the necklace out and gave it to him. Miles snatched it away before Aaron could change his mind and put it in the hidden pocket built into the waist of his trousers. Now, at least when they were captured, he was the one with the pendant. It wasn't above the humiliation of being brought in by Strausser, but it was better than nothing.

Miles half listened as Nora described her plan to get Mia and not turn him over to Strausser. It might work, or it might not, but Miles didn't care as much now. He was tired of running, tired of being this close to Philly and feeling so far away, but not sure if he was ready to go back. So much had changed…so many things. He felt lost. Nora's plan was simple: cause lots of explosions…create a distraction…kill a lot of men…steal Mia during the chaos…avoid Strausser.

It seemed to be working. The explosions having the desired affect on the men who running around, finding wounded, some just running because they were confused and disoriented. They cut Mia down in the midst of the chaos. Through the dust, Miles saw Strausser, saw him pull his sword. Miles wasn't ready, even with the pendant, to face him. Not now. Not in the aftermath of the bombs. Miles drew his sword anyway because fate didn't give a damn about how he felt. He looked back, and saw Nora running with Mia, Aaron and Charlie. They were his responsibility, even if he never asked for it, even if he never wanted it…and he wouldn't subject them to Strausser, or allow them to come up with some harebrained scheme to come and "save" him if things went badly. In moments like this, he wished they'd just let him go with Jeremy. That’d had some dignity left in it. It didn’t matter now because Strausser was far enough away that Miles could still make a run for it. He wasn't a coward, but this fight wasn’t worth it. He ran.

 

They managed to avoid Strausser through the night, and in the morning, Nora told them she was leaving with Mia. It was fine with Miles, who viewed it as one less person to be responsible for, one less person whose life was in his hands. One less casualty. Charlie seemed to be upset about it, even though she had been the one to urge Nora to go. It was her obsession with family, with blood meaning something. Maybe it did, but Miles wasn’t convinced. The goodbye was short, both of them used to not seeing someone the following morning. Life post-blackout made lengthy goodbyes irrelevant, and more painful than necessary.

Miles led Charlie and Aaron through the forest, their new goal: Morganville. It wasn't ideal, it made Charlie angry, but it was the best he could do. They still might not make it; Strausser wasn't just going to stop looking because he'd trained him, just as he'd trained everyone else. Strausser didn't tolerate failure in himself, or in anyone else. Those men who'd gone looking for them near the bridge, Miles knew they were dead. Death was the penalty for failure. They didn't make it very far before gunfire forced them to find cover. Miles pulled Charlie behind a car, less concerned about Aaron, who could take a stray bullet now that Miles had the pendant.

"Come on out, Miles," Strausser called when the bullets stopped flying. "You've got nowhere to go."

The man was right, which pissed off Miles to no end. He was trapped, surrounded and they all had automatic weapons. If had been muskets and maybe a handgun or two, he might have considered running for it. At least Nora got out while she could. Assuming the orders hadn't changed, but with Strausser in the field, the orders may have changed. Strausser wouldn't have been sent unless Monroe was getting desperate, which meant he might have changed the standing orders. Miles just hoped Monroe still wanted him taken in alive. Miles was pretty sure he could negotiate for Charlie to be taken in alive. He should probably care more about Aaron, but he didn't. He'd try, for Charlie's sake, to bring him in, but he wouldn't push Strausser about it. Miles glanced down at Charlie before rolling his eyes.

"Hold you fire," Miles called out. He took a minute, took a few deep breaths and reevaluated his options. There would be no coming back from this. There would be no way out; Strausser would take him to Monroe. He could feel the pendant against his hip, and he took a small measure of comfort from that. Charlie's hand was on his leg, maybe to hold him back, maybe just for reassurance…either way it didn't matter. She wouldn't keep him from surrendering and there was no reassurance to get in this situation. He would just have to prepare himself to face Monroe…brought back to Philly by Strausser. He shook his head.

"Hold your fire, I’m coming out," he said it quickly, so he couldn't change his mind.

It didn't keep him from hesitating, from taking his time moving out from behind the vehicle. He didn't want to face Strausser as a prisoner. It chaffed his pride, knowing the man would lord it over him forever. He dropped his pack near Charlie, knowing they'd take it from him anyway. There wasn't anything important in it, not really.

He kept his eyes on Strausser, his hands up as he moved forward into the circle of militia. They all kept their weapons trained on him, and while he itched to get his hand on his sword, he knew they'd kill him. It was one thing to be taken prisoner by Strausser, it was another entirely to be killed by him. He wasn't going to make it that easy.

"Ahh, lose the swords," Strausser said, hand up to halt Miles' progress.

Sadly, the man wasn't a fool. Miles undid the belt and tossed the swords out in front of him. He felt naked, exposed, _vulnerable_. This wasn't exactly how he saw this ending. No matter what else had happened during his absence, he was still General Matheson, even if he was the only one who knew it, which made it even more awkward and humiliating for him to surrender to _Corporal_ Strausser.

Miles stopped in front of a tree, took the most relaxed, yet commanding stance he could with his arms held up like a moron and met Strausser's gaze.

"Corporal," Miles greeted with a ghost of a smile. The irony of the situation lost on no one, so avoidance would just make him look weak. He refused to look weak.

"I'm a sergeant now."

Miles was surprised, but unimpressed. Clearly, his absence had done a much bigger disservice to the militia than he'd originally thought. No one should have promoted this animal.

"Well," Miles began, "Let's be honest. You're a sociopath. That's what you are. Before the blackout you would have been locked in a rubber room."

Miles didn't blink, didn't break eye contact and his voice was as even as possible. Everything he knew would drive Strausser crazy. It might not be the best move, antagonizing Strausser, but it seemed to be a gut reaction for him. It's not like Strausser would kill him because of it, the man had too much control for that. Plus, he had orders from Monroe. 

"Did you ever consider that maybe society was sick? Not me?"

Miles' eyes widened to comic proportions because the man was serious. "No. I never considered that."

"I will agree. It is true that the militia has been a, uh…healthy outlet for me."

Miles offered a tight smile. They both knew what kind of an outlet it was for him. Most people had trouble torturing someone for information, even when it was necessary, but Strausser not only had _no_ problem with it, he _enjoyed_ it. Which, true, did make him a useful asset, but it also made him rather dangerous. His good will and cooperation being directly related to his ability to utilize the militia as a "healthy outlet".

"Arms out front."

Slowly, Miles extended his arms, knowing it would be more than a bit of rope, and not looking forward to it.

"Keep them out."

Strausser motioned one of his men forward. "Cuff him."

Miles held his hands out, felt the cold metal close around his wrists. It wasn't as tight as he'd expected, but it was uncomfortable enough that it would chafe before they reached Philly.

"Bring out the other two," Strausser called.

"Hey," Miles called out, "I want them alive."

Strausser tilted his head. "I don't believe you're giving the orders."

"Monroe still wants me alive, right?"

Strausser nodded. "He does."

"Then don't make this hard. I want the girl alive. Monroe will want her, too."

Strausser smiled and it made Miles nauseous. That wasn't why Monroe would want the girl, but sure, he'd let Strausser think that. Whatever it took to keep her alive.

"Bring them out…gently," Strausser said, a sneer on the last word.

Miles offered him the same tight smile as before and watched as Charlie and Aaron were pulled out from behind the cars. They struggled until Miles shook his head.

"It's a shame the Clayton girl didn't follow through on her end of the deal. It was a generous deal on my part."

"What are you talking about?" Miles asked, knowing he was being baited.

"The necklace of course, you know which one I mean. She was to get it from you and bring it to me. In exchange, I'd let her and her sister, who has a sizable bounty on her head, go free. Instead, she came to me with only your location. That was only part of the deal."

"What did you do?"

Strausser smiled. "They'll be going with you to Philadelphia. I'm sure President Monroe will be happy to hear why he received bad intel."

"The fat one was supposed to have it," Mia argued as she fought against her restraints.

Miles ignored her and locked eyes on Nora who looked devastated. She hadn't known what her sister was doing. It was clear in her eyes. Too bad, really. She'd almost gotten off clean this time. But now? There was no way Monroe was just going to let her go. Not this time.

 

As they walked through Philadelphia, Miles felt himself grow more and more tense. It had been years since he'd been back here, and for all that it had become his home, he felt like a stranger. The streets were all familiar, but he felt lost. People were looking at him, and he could feel their eyes follow him as he was led through the streets like some sort of prize. He could imagine the look on Strausser's face, the satisfied, gloating smile as he looked out on the people as if to say, yes I have done the impossible. It made Miles sick. When they reached Independence Hall, Miles was separated from the others. He felt Charlie's gaze upon him, her concerned eyes a weight he didn't want to acknowledge. They'd been silent during the trip, mostly due to Strausser's hovering; the man wouldn't let Miles out of his sight. He knew Charlie wanted to talk, wanted to say something to make it better, wanted to know what to expect once they reached Philly, but Miles wouldn’t have known what to tell her even if they'd been able to speak.

Not knowing what to do with himself, or how long he'd be left alone in the room, Miles prowled around the edges. He knew he was in Monroe's suite of rooms, he recognized them. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Even with the limited motion, Miles was able to trace the edge of a water pitcher, remembering when they'd found it in Maryland in some abandoned farmhouse, and Monroe had wanted it. So, they'd put it in the supply wagon and given the sergeant strict instructions to ensure it didn't break.

"Miles."

He closed his eyes as Monroe's voice washed over him. It had been too long since he'd heard his best friend say his name. For a moment, Miles just let himself feel. His emotions were jumbled, but the most dominate was a sort of embarrassed shame. He'd been brought in, by Strausser, and would face Monroe for the first time in years wearing handcuffs.

"Miles?"

There was concern in Monroe's voice and Miles turned to face him, unsure of what to expect. He stood still as Monroe moved closer to him, even though his first instinct was to take a step back. The instinct confused him, but he didn't have too much time to analyze it because Monroe was removing the cuffs, a little frown on his face. Monroe's fingers trailed across the red marks on his wrists, the movement soothing.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," Miles said, unsure if it was to himself or to Monroe.

"What's wrong?"

"Strausser, it shouldn’t have been Strausser."

Monroe's frown deepened. "Did he hurt you?"

Miles shook his head.

"I didn't think it,” Monroe looked away. “I - I just wanted you back, Miles. I wanted you home. You'd been gone for too long."

"It was the plan. Me, out there - " Miles made a vague gesture that felt as silly as it probably looked. "Now, here…"

Miles looked down at where Monroe's hands were resting near the red marks on his wrists, the gesture comforting.

"Now you're home, Miles. We're not doing this again, no matter what you say. It's not worth it, not to me, not to you. We can send someone else, but I need you here."

Miles met Monroe's gaze steadily, searching for something he couldn't define. He was home, but that sounded weird, vaguely untrue. He'd come in handcuffed, with criminals of the Republic; he'd come home as a criminal himself.

"I killed men. I helped rebels. I don't want anything to happen to Charlie. She needs to see Danny. Is he even alive?" The statements, the confessions, tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. He knew what the penalty was for those crimes, he'd written the laws. Charlie had been a means to an end, and Danny? He didn't know the boy, but Charlie wanted to see him, wanted to _rescue_ him…and now?

"It's okay, Miles," Monroe said, his voice soft, his eyes concerned, but not angry.

Miles nodded slowly, wanting to believe him. It didn't answer anything. He didn't know what would happen next, didn't know what he was supposed to do.

"What now?"

He didn't mean to ask it out loud, but from the way Monroe cocked his head it wasn't what he’d expected Miles to say. He wished he could take it back, but he couldn't. When they'd come up with the plan, he hadn't considered what it would be like to come _home_ after being out there, away from the militia, away from his men, away from such a significant part of him for so long. Neither of them thought about the cost, mostly because they didn’t know. How could they have known? He'd thought he could compartmentalize it better, keep one section of him separate, slip from one role to the other, but now he wasn’t so sure.

Monroe's hands were on his face, thumbs gently stroking, trying to offer comfort. Miles wanted to relax into the touch, but he couldn't.

"I'm sorry," Miles whispered. And it was for so many things, for leaving, for coming up with the plan, for becoming someone else, for betraying the militia.

"Hey," Monroe whispered, face full of concern. "It's okay, whatever it is, it's okay. The important thing is you're back now. Nothing else matters. Whatever you had to do, I don't care. You're home. You're with me."

Miles knew Monroe wouldn't lie, not about all of that, but it didn't help him deal with his duplicity. He'd been some bum running a bar in Chicago and now he didn't know how to go back to who he was, who he was meant to be…General Matheson seemed like a stranger to him. The mantle of his former position was being held out to him, and all he had to do was pick it up…everything was already forgiven. It could be that easy; come back, and make all of the decisions. It was his position. He was the Commanding General, and Monroe clearly still wanted him. Miles caught Monroe's eye, held his gaze, and watched the emotions filter across his face. Slowly, Miles brought his own hand up, gently cupped Monroe's face, watched his eyes flutter closed, saw some of the tension leech out of his shoulders. It made Miles feel better, knowing he'd helped Monroe relax a bit. Perhaps he could come back into the fold.

"Miles."

The word was a whispered entreaty and Miles tilted Monroe's head up, bent his own forward and pressed their lips together. The moment was overwhelming, the feel of Monroe trembling in his arms as they moved closer to each other, until there was nothing but the thinnest layer of air between them. Miles' hands moved into Monroe's hair, feeling the curls wrap around his fingers as he deepened the kiss. Monroe's hands clenched his jacket and Miles knew he was home. This was where he was meant to be, this was what he'd been missing all those long nights. This. Monroe. _Bass._ This was his home.

"Bass," Miles breathed as he pulled back just enough to look into his eyes.

Bass smiled at him softly. "Welcome home, brother."

Miles smiled in return. "No more undercover assignments, Bass."

"Agreed."

"You didn't have bad intel. Jason was right," Miles said as he stepped away from Bass. He was _General_ Matheson, and the whole mission had been to get one of the pendants or at least some reliable information on them. Now that he was back, it was time to get to business, time to make all of his time away worth something.

He walked over to the table and poured two drinks. After handing one to Bass, he leaned against the table.

"We have the pendant. It was with Ben the whole time. When he was – ” Miles allowed his voice to fade away and looked away for a moment. He didn’t have time to dwell on what happened to his brother. He’d deal with Captain Neville soon enough. “Ben gave it to Aaron."

"Strausser said Aaron didn't have it."

Miles set his glass down and smiled at Bass as he pulled the pendant from the hidden pocket. "I couldn’t let someone like him hang on to it. I had no way of knowing how much longer I would be out there, and I couldn't let the rebels get their hands on it. It was a miracle Aaron hadn’t already lost it. If he’d had it when Mia was after it, it’d be gone."

"You should have told Strausser, told him the truth."

Miles shook his head. "He wouldn't have believed me. Then he would have taken the pendant. I couldn’t let that happen. I didn’t want to escalate things. Strausser has a problem with grey areas. Couldn’t risk him hurting Charlie. We’ll need her."

Bass smiled. "Strausser indicated you thought I'd enjoy the girl."

Miles shrugged. "I had to tell him something."

Bass held the pendant out, both of them looking at it a bit stupidly. It looked insignificant. It looked meaningless, which he supposed was the point. They were counting on Rachel knowing what to do with it, counting on their instincts about her and Ben’s involvement with the power being accurate.

"Rachel no longer has any excuses. She'll have everything she needs to get the power back on."

Bass nodded.

"We'll need the kids alive. Charlie, the boy."

"Of course. They're all waiting, but needed to come to you first. I needed to see you."

Miles moved without hesitation this time and pulled Bass into his arms. The kiss was deep, their tongues dueling as Miles held him close. Miles wanted nothing more than to strip Bass out of his clothing and fuck him for the next several hours, but they had things to take care of, and their bed would be there when they were done.

"We'll deal with them," Miles said against Bass' ear. "Then I'm taking you to bed."

He felt Bass smile. "Yes, sir."

Miles moved away before he changed his mind. "Do you have a uniform I can wear?"

Bass smiled. "Your room is just the way you left it. I'll let you get ready. We'll wait for you in the office."

Miles nodded and with one last kiss, because he couldn't seem to stop himself, he left. He strode down the halls as he always had, with a confident stride and found his room unlocked, and as Bass said, completely untouched. He walked over to his dresser and pulled out a clean uniform before walking over to the basin and pouring water into the bowl. While he would have preferred to take a bath and wash the grime of captivity from his body, a quick face wash would have to suffice.

He took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. The uniform fit him as it always had, the weight of the material a comforting presence. A knock on his door drew his attention, but before he could walk over to open it, Jeremy came striding in, a smile on his face.

"Heard a rumor you were back," Jeremy said in lieu of greeting.

"Bass filled you in."

Jeremy nodded. "Filled in most of the holes. But, I wasn't lying when I found you in St. Anne. He needed you back."

"I know. I needed to be back."

"Good."

They stood in silence for a few seconds before Jeremy nodded. "I have something for you."

Miles raised an eyebrow.

Jeremy moved his hands out from behind his back. Miles' swords were in one hand and his sidearm was in the other. Miles felt himself smile. Bass had clearly been planning for his return.

"Monroe wouldn’t want you to make your entrance without these," Jeremy said, a smirk on his face.

"Thanks, Jeremy."

"I'll see you later, Miles."

Miles held the firearm in his hand, feeling the weight of it in his hand. He hadn’t taken it with him, much to Bass’ dismay, but he couldn’t. The point was for him to blend in, which he couldn’t do with a gun. He’d wanted to leave the swords, too, but Bass had insisted, and Miles had given in and taken them with him.

“Wait,” Miles called out.

Jeremy turned, a questioning look on his face.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

Miles watched Jeremy’s face drop, and knew his words had been misinterpreted. “No, I mean…never mind. Go tell Bass to come in here and put everyone else in one of the rooms for the night, under guard. Tell Strausser to report in the morning.”

Jeremy smiled at him. “Of course, sir.”

Miles rolled his eyes at the formality, but knew his orders would be followed. It was just another sign that he was home, and that things could be as the once were. He’d missed it, the power, the knowledge that people would do as he asked simply because he asked. But, part of him had enjoyed the freedom, the release from the pressures of command. In Chicago, he’d only been responsible for himself, no one else was depending on him. Here, everyone was counting on him to make the right decision, to win the battle, to find food, to ensure they were able to continue living their lives in relative safety. It was a role he accepted gladly, but he wasn’t so ignorant as to not acknowledge the pitfalls of being in command. He knew what was at stake if he messed up, and he refused to fail his people.  

Miles was setting the swords and his pistol down on the end table when he heard the door open. He knew it was Bass, even though his back was to the door. There was something about the way Bass walked, or perhaps it was because they’d known each other since childhood, but Miles always knew when it was Bass walking into a room, could always feel Bass approaching him. He smiled, knowing the footsteps were real and not the phantom ones his imagination had conjured to tease him in the dark of the night.

“Miles? Is everything okay?”

“I am still the Commanding General, right?”

“Of course you are.”

Miles felt Bass move closer to him and he smiled to himself as he turned to face Bass.

“Then I’ve changed my mind.” He watched concern flit across Bass’ face and felt bad for teasing. He put his hands on Bass’ shoulders and pulled him forward until Bass was flush against him. “I’m taking you to bed now. We’ll deal with the rest tomorrow.”

 

Miles enjoyed the way everyone tensed when he walked into the room, everyone except Bass who simply smiled at him as though there was no one else in the room. Strausser glanced between the two of them, but didn’t say anything. He was a sociopath, not an idiot.  

"Sergeant," Miles greeted.

"General," Strausser replied easily.

"General?" Charlie repeated.

"Charlie, look, there's something you need to know."

"You son of a bitch," Nora snapped. "You had us convinced the whole time…you staged the whole thing, didn't you? You never tried to kill Monroe."

 "I never really left the militia."

"Miles - "

"Charlie, Danny's fine. You can even see him today if you want."

"You were never going to help us rescue him."

"No. I wasn't."

"Why? Why can't you just let us go?"

Miles took a step closer to Charlie and tried not to flinch when she backed away from him. It was to be expected. "Charlie, your mom's alive. She's here."

"My mom is dead."

"No, she's not."

"The pendant," Aaron interrupted.

Everyone looked at him. He pointed a finger at Miles. "That's why you took it away from me. That's what this whole thing was about. You wanted the pendant. You always wanted to get the pendant to Monroe. The whole time."

Miles nodded. "Yeah, that was the plan."

"I told you he had it," Mia exclaimed.

"Sergeant Strausser, take Mia and her sister down to the holding cells. Give them food and water. I'll be down to deal with them later," Miles ordered. "Oh, take Aaron, too."

Maybe Aaron could help Rachel with whatever it was Bass had her doing. If not, he was expendable. For Charlie’s sake, he hoped Aaron cooperated.

Strausser nodded and escorted them out of the room.

"What are you going to do to them, Miles? Are you going to kill them? Let Strausser finish what he started?"

"No, I'm not, but I can't just let them go. Mia's a bounty hunter with questionable ties and Nora's taken up with the rebels, which means she should be killed on sight. I'm going to give her a choice."

"I thought I knew you. I can't believe I trusted you," Charlie said.

"Yeah, well, hate me if you want, but you’re here. With your family."

"Danny's room is down the hall, Miles."

Miles took the key from Bass and looked at Charlie. "Want to see your brother, or not?"

She glared at him, and for a moment, Miles thought she was going to say no, but she finally nodded her head. He opened the door for her and led her down the hall to Danny’s suite of rooms. He wasn’t really a prisoner, but they couldn’t let him wander around until they were sure he’d come back to the house. Danny and now Charlie were the only leverage they had against Rachel now that Ben was dead and Miles couldn’t afford for them to go running off. Hopefully, Charlie’s desperate desire to have her family back would help keep Danny in line, and then they could come and go as they pleased, even be set up in their own little house, if that’s what they wanted.

The wounded, betrayed looks Charlie kept throwing at him didn’t bother Miles as much as he’d thought they would. It would have been worse, seeing those looks from her, if they’d done this last night. Being with Bass again, watching him come apart under him, waking up with Bass in his arms…that had secured his place. The militia, the Republic, they would welcome him back because they’d be told to do so. They’d all hear the story of how General Matheson had valiantly gone out on a deep cover mission to retrieve the pendant and bring them power; the stories would make him a hero. Being with Bass, seeing the acceptance, the need in his eyes, that had brought him home.

**~FIN~**

**Author's Note:**

> checkmatey wanted doubleagent!Miles ... and then this happened.


End file.
